


oh dear, oh dear, my dear

by youhaventyet



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youhaventyet/pseuds/youhaventyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“WHAT.”<br/>“Whoa there, Allen. No need to be so shocked. Yuu and I had sex, like, once upon a time, various times. What’s the big deal?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh dear, oh dear, my dear

**Author's Note:**

> title from Bastille's _The Silence_.  
>  **English is not my first language** so I'm sorry for the mistakes, and if you'd like to help me fix some of them, you'd be very welcome.  
>  funny how i panic whenever the u word is brought up but then enjoy myself when i write college/university aus. my brain clearly has a few loose screws.

“What?!”

“Well, yeah. It defin’tely happened.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Lavi turns towards him, the portrait of perfect obliviousness. “We… had sex? Like, more ’n two times.”

“WHAT.”

“Whoa there, Allen. No need to be so shocked. Yuu and I had sex, like, once upon a time, various times. What’s the big deal?”

The big deal, Allen would like to reply, it’s _how the hell_ did it come up during a casual conversation, while he was rearranging his Psychology notes? But mostly… the _big deal_ is: it’s not like he’d never thought about it. He _had_. Just… it looked more like a guilty fantasy than a concrete possibility. Hearing Lavi confirm it like it’s nothing strange is like a cold shower of reality. Better yet: it’s as if reality had slapped him in the face, _hard_.

He’s 100% sure his cheeks are blushing a very unattractive beet red.

Lavi’s eyebrows - or at least, the visible one  - have gone from low in incomprehension to raised in that cheeky, smug way of his. “What.” It’s his time to say it, now. His tone is very different from Allen’s, though. “Do you like the idea?” and then he breaks out in a smirk. “You do!”

For a moment, Allen has a very unpleasant flashback to when Lavi was obsessed with that internet meme about butts and went around shouting it every two minutes. The flashback subsides only when Lavi jumps down from his perch on the counter, where he was waiting for his coffee to be ready, and slides into the chair next to Allen’s. He puts an elbow on the table and comes closer still, eye sparkling with malice and smirk firmly placed on his lips.

“You like the idea of me and Yuu going at it, don’cha? All sweaty an’ everythin’.”

Allen exhales noisily and turns his face away, to look at the notes scattered in front of him. He has so much shit to do. Why is this even happening.

Lavi, because he’s a prick, comes even closer and sticks his nose in Allen’s hair, warm breath puffing against his temple and right hand fastening on Allen’s hip, to keep him still.

“Yuu’s hair was ‘lready long, yeah, and it got tangled everywhere. And y’know what an angry kitten he is, so you can ‘magine the state of my back ‘fterwards.” He’s purring, in the same voice he uses when he wants Allen to bring him breakfast in bed. It’s equal parts annoying and alluring, as always. The little shit.

“Lavi, please, stop,” Allen says, already knowing it’s futile. Lavi can be like a dog with a bone when something grabs his attention. That’s why Allen hadn’t told him anything: not because he was embarrassed - they’ve been dating for more than a year, known each other for longer: they’ve talked about more personal things than weird sexual fantasies - but because of the teasing. Lavi is a _goddamn tease_.

“Allen.” Lavi’s basically mewling in his ear, now, just to stop him from ignoring him. “Hey, Allen. Our dicks _totally_ touched.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way he probably thinks funny and sexy at the same time, but actually just makes him look ridiculous.

Allen puts a hand on his face and shoves him off of himself and the chair.

 

He’d started to think about it as kind of a joke he had with himself. Sometimes, he would notice Kanda and Lavi standing closer than ‘just friends’ would, not to talk about the fact that, even if Daisya has known Kanda for longer than Lavi, Lavi is still the only one who dares call him by his first name.

So, it’s not as if he’s a pervert. And, god forbid, it’s not even that he’s holding a torch for Kanda and just biding his time with Lavi while he waits for something to happen; because now that they’re dating, Lavi pretty much has his whole focus, and before, well, Kanda’s douchebaggery has always weighted out his good looks. Allen has never been one for hate sex. It’s entirely too much effort.

 It was just that he had his suspicions, because Kanda and Lavi had known each other since high school, and sure did a lot of shit; counting they were friends with a teenage Daisya, well, they probably did _any kind_ of shit that wouldn’t get them sentenced as repeat offenders. So he’d kind of developed this twisted inside joke where Lavi was Kanda’s pain in the ass in a more literal way than usual.

It had all been fun and games until he’d come back home from a night out with Lenalee only to find Kanda and Lavi tangled together on the couch, sleeping, Lavi’s knee between Kanda’s legs and their faces very close, profiles starkly outlined by the glow of Call of Duty Black OPs’s _game over_ screen. It wasn’t even that much of an incriminating image, really; only they were both so pretty, in the low light, and even Kanda looked soft, and Allen wasn’t a jealous person by nature, so…

So maybe he actually is a bit of a pervert. He had never thought about it in detail, but after that night, his mind had started to wander at the most inopportune times. Until, during a weekend Lavi was away for one of his journalism workshops, he’d indulged himself in his fantasy. Not even knowing that Kanda’s favourite film - after _House of Flying Daggers_ \- is _Mean Girls_ had prevented him from coming his brains out.

He was _never_ going to tell a soul about it.

But of course, he’d told Lenalee - who had laughed and laughed and laughed - because she’s the most important person in his life; and since Lavi comes close second after her, well, it’s not that much of a shock that now he knows, too.

 

As much as he wants to crawl under a rock and cry over how much of a dumbass his libido has made him look in the aftermath of their conversation, he’s got no time for it. Finals are looming over him, and so, for a week and a half, he hasn’t got time for anything that doesn’t involve: studying, studying, more studying, panicking, sitting exams, occasionally sleeping and mostly drinking enough coffee to kill a horse. 

Meanwhile Lavi, who’s not only TA for Mr. Bookman’s History Class, but also getting his PhD, mostly just idles around their apartment, watching period dramas and taking great satisfaction in mocking them for their Historical Inaccuracy. This time of the year, not hating him for his eidetic memory is very hard.

Allen has never been a straight-As kind of student, and he never thought he was going to make it to university - what with his family situation and financial situation and with _everything_ , really - but somehow he’s here, and he loves it, and his grades are surprisingly quite good, and even when they’re not, he’s got Lavi and Lenalee to help him out. So it’s not really surprising that he’s a bit over-zealous when it comes to exams and all that shebang. Lavi gets it, he thinks, or at least, he knows to stay out of Allen’s hair until his finals are over.

So when he comes home after sitting Physics - and he’s done, _done_ , no more studying and panicking for the foreseeable future - Kanda and Lavi are the last thing he’s thinking about. He sure is thinking about a bed, but that’s mostly because his eyes have felt as if stung by two bees since he got out of the exam room.

He opens the door of their apartment and crawls in, taking his time to hang up his coat instead of throwing it somewhere just by sheer force of stubbornness - and because he hates it when Lavi does it.

He can hear instrumental music coming from the living room: Lavi must be home, then, watching one of his hideous TV series, but Allen doesn’t go looking for him, barely grumbling out something that sounds like “ _I’m home_ ,” as he trudges to their bedroom on legs that feel like jell-o.

He struggles out of his clothes, ending up in boxers and an undershirt, and gets into bed with a yawn, eyes already closed but brain still fizzling with sparks of nervous energy that won’t let him fall asleep just yet. So he’s still half-awake when the door opens and the bed dips beside him.

He roll towards Lavi, heavy limbs getting tangled in the covers, and cracks his eyelids just open enough to see a mop of red hair and a startlingly green eye.

“Hey, pumpkin,” Lavi murmurs, sliding a hand into Allen’s hair.

He grumbles at the nickname. “If ya hafta tease come under here ‘lready.”

Lavi laughs and does as he’s told, smelling of shampoo - which makes Allen long for a shower - and coffee - which makes him slightly nauseous, in turn.

Lavi nestles against him, making him rise his head for a moment so he can slide an arm under it, while he runs his other hand up and down Allen’s scarred arm, in a soothing motion. He knows it always gets numb whenever he’s tired. “Let’s talk when you wake up, yeah?”

“I hope that by _talk_ you mean _have slow sex where you do all the work_ ,” Allen mumbles, grumpy as Kanda when somebody as much as nears his personal bubble.

Lavi just chuckles again and presses a kiss to his temple, and that’s the last thing Allen remembers before he falls asleep.

 

He wakes up what feels like eons later, the room dark even if it’d only been early afternoon when he went to sleep. The only light comes from Lavi’s iPad, and Allen has to look at it through his lashes for a minute or two before he can stare at it directly, the brightness hurting his sleepy eyes.

Lavi is browsing Wikipedia, reading an article about iambic poetry, of all things, lying on his back with Allen curled against his side like a cat, free arm around him.

Allen stretches, pointing his toes and fingers, letting out a satisfied yawn and huddling back against Lavi once he’s done. It’s a rarity, to wake up so relaxed, every muscle loose and even his bad arm feeling light and warm instead of like a nearly useless weight .

Lavi puts his iPad down on the bedside table and turns towards Allen, nuzzling him and slowly coaxing his face up to kiss him. Allen sighs and somehow relaxes even more, melting into the bed.

“Good morning,” Lavi says, even though it’s probably around dinnertime; he brushes his fingers through his hair, smushes his cheeks a little, rubs his arm and chest and back, and kisses his face wherever he can reach: near the corner of his eye, at the apple of his cheek. He must be touch starved, and ALlen feels the same way. Usually they show their affection through seemingly-casual yet constant touches; but now they’ve barely kissed for more than a week. “You slept pretty well, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he snuggles closer, wrapping his arms around Lavi’s neck and tangling their legs together. “Feel good.”

Lavi hums, and then he has to go and make it cheesy, like he can’t stand all these feelings even if it’s just the two of them. “Want to feel even better?”

Allen snorts and tightens his arms a little, kissing him for a full three minutes, all slow and clumsy. “You’re the one who offered,” he says. “You’re doing all the work.”

“Of course I am, you brat,” Lavi replies, rolling his eye as if it’s a chore, but his hands are gentle, and his expression a bit too soft, as he strips Allen of his boxers and undershirt.

 

It’s as Allen is regaining his breath and making a mental list of Things That Would Be Good Right About Now (a shower, some tea and sandwiches, maybe his favourite Doctor Who episode - _Father’s Day_ \- and then sleep the rest of the night away, because seriously, he’s _tired_ ) that Lavi turns back on his side from where he was sprawled on his back, catching his breath, and looks at him with a playful yet assessing gaze.

“What is it?”

“Was it satisfactory?” Lavi asks of all things. Before Allen can so much as frown, he goes on with a smirk on his lips. “I was a bit worried you’d shout Yuu’s name, to be honest.”

“Oh my god.” If he weren’t so tired, he would probably take the pillow from under his head and beat Lavi unconscious with it.

“You didn’t think about it? I must admit, the mental image of us three together: pretty hot, yeah.”

“Shut up,” Allen moans. “It was never like that, ugh.”

Lavi laughs, rolling on his back again and scratching at his belly. He makes such a good picture; if Allen weren’t so tired and so bummed out by how much of an asshole Lavi is being, he would probably ask for another round.

“I gotta tell you, Allen,” Lavi says, no longer laughing but with his lips still curled up in a grin. “It wasn’t as hot as you pictured it, fo’ sure.” He snorts. “Involved lots of unsexy hair pulling  and gag reflexes gone awry. I mean, we were both sixteen-years-old virgins, ’twas pretty bad.” He grimaces, but somehow, Allen starts to imagine it, and it’s _so vivid_ , because Daisya has shown him pictures - after having made him swear of never telling neither Kanda nor Lavi, unless he wanted them both to die a slow, painful death via Kanda’s collection of katanas.

He imagines teenage Lavi, who used to wear a leather eyepatch all the time instead of the medical breathable one he usually uses now, and eyeliner around his good eye; and Kanda, even grumpier than now but in an alluring/amusing kind of way, rather than just looking like an asshole, and he has to cover his face with both of his hands, groaning.

“Oh my god, that works for you?!” Lavi says, sounding nothing short of scandalized, sitting up all at once to stare at him incredulously from above.

“Shut up!” Allen screams, pained, finally finding the force of will to grab the pillow Lavi has vacated and hit him in the face with it.


End file.
